


Schoolgirl Crush

by Storm_Witch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26744164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm_Witch/pseuds/Storm_Witch
Summary: Hermione has a distracting dream, and she’s unknowingly determined to make it Snape’s problem. Heavy reliance on legilimency.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 6
Kudos: 170





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Snape is still the potions master during the Half Blood Prince, although there’s very little reliance on the books.

For one of the few times in her life, Hermione Granger found herself unable to study. She didn’t know why, but her hormones were raging, and every boy she interacted with had her heart fluttering and cheeks flushing. There was almost nothing on her mind but sex, and it was incredibly distracting. Idly, she wondered if this was what her male classmates went through all the time. It was a wonder they got anything done. Thankfully, these moods were few and far between in her experience, and rarely lasted more than a couple days.

However, this time was different. She’d had the strangest dream last night, and couldn’t for the life of her figure out what had caused it. She had never been good at remembering her dreams, but she kept getting flashes of entwined tongues and bodies pressed together. Though she didn’t see his face, Hermione knew in that subconscious, dream-logic way that her mind had conjured the body of Professor Snape. It was utterly baffling. The Potions master had never, even fleetingly, crossed her mind as an object of desire. But now that her sleeping mind had given her the idea, she found it impossible to ignore.

So there she sat in the dank dungeon classroom, eyes staring blankly at the text in front of her, mind wandering. Other than the rustle of pages and scratching of quills, none of her fellow classmates made a sound. They were all too frightened of the severe man, even after having known him for six years now, to risk his wrath by speaking out of turn. In fact, she was a bit frightened of him herself. How many times had she been reprimanded by him over the years, or seen others reprimanded and prayed his attention wouldn’t turn to her next? But that slight undercurrent of fear, combined with the passionate dream she’d had, sent a thrill through her.

A seed had sprouted in her mind, and all morning had been swiftly growing and strangling out all logic and reason. She was a teenage student, and he was, well… Snape. She had never held such vitriol in her heart for Snape as Harry did, but Hermione was far from fond of him. Still, he was a _man_. The youngest man currently teaching at the school, late-30’s she thought, and far different from the boys she spent her time with. When she really dwelled on it, although Professor Snape was not the most handsome wizard she’d ever seen, she couldn’t deny that he was brave. He was also quite accomplished in many areas of magic; skill was always something she had been drawn to. He was intelligent, mature, and confident. And every fiber of her primal, hormone-driven mind was screaming at her to mate with him.

Keeping her head bowed, Hermione subtly raised her eyes to the object of her thoughts. Professor Snape was sitting at the head of the classroom, paying no attention to the crowd of teenagers in front of him. She took in his shoulder-length black hair, pale skin, hooked nose, and dark eyes, which were currently moving back and forth across the paper he was grading. His mouth was tightened into a severe, displeased line. Her eyes wandered lower, over the billowing black robes he always wore, to his hands firmly clenched around a quill.

Those hands, she thought to herself, are probably what started this whole thing. His fingers were long and slender with thick knuckles. His skin was so pale that she could see the blue veins underneath, even from here, and admired the way his tendons shifted under his skin as he marked the parchment. How many times had she watched those hands deftly prepare ingredients, fiercely clutch a wand, and languidly flip through pages of a book? She had to admit that men’s hands had always been her weakness, and her professor did have particularly adept hands. 

She found herself imagining those skilled, clever hands running over her body, those long fingers caressing and probing. These thoughts were interspersed with images from her dream last night: a heavy weight pressing down on her, a hot mouth on her neck, and her own breathy gasps of pleasure. Crossing one knee over the other, she fidgeted in her seat in an attempt to assuage the pulsing ache that had started between her legs.

As Hermione slowly dragged her eyes back up to Snape’s face, her body went from hot to cold when she found her gaze locked with his. She saw his eyes widen briefly, his body tense, and she inwardly winced. He must be furious to have caught her daydreaming in class. Hurriedly dropping her eyes back to her parchment, she resumed studying and chastised herself for getting so distracted. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In his chambers that night, Severus Snape was utterly confused. He was sitting in his favorite leather chair in front of the fireplace, as he did most nights, sipping from a glass of whiskey and ruminating on what he’d seen earlier that day.

Few knew that he was a skilled legilimens, able to nonverbally and wandlessly see into people’s minds, which had been to his advantage on more than one occasion. With just the locking of eyes, he could find what information he needed to find, and the victim of his ministrations was none the wiser. Lord knew he’d been able to use this method to save the Potter boy from himself on more than one occasion.

However, his skill was such that he occasionally received images from another’s mind without even trying. If the eye contact, if the images, were forceful enough. And lord, had the Granger girl been forceful. _Just like a Gryffindor,_ he sneered to himself. _Brash and assumptive, even in their own minds._ But try as he might, he couldn’t get the moment out of his head.

Severus had glanced up from the parchment in front of him, eyes scanning the class to ensure that everyone was reading the text as instructed, when his attention snagged on Miss Granger. Head still bowed over her book, her eyes were lifted in his direction, gazing unseeingly. As he had been about to snap at her, to ask what was so enrapturing that she felt she didn’t need to obey his instruction, their eyes had locked. And his world had briefly fallen out from under him, unable to believe what he was seeing.

His mind had been assaulted by images of himself resting atop the young witch. Of her writhing in pleasure as his mouth grazed the tender skin of her neck. As his fingers caressed lower, diving between… No. He firmly stopped that train of thought in its tracks, doing his best to ignore the growing strain under his robes. He stood up, telling himself that the blooming heat in his body was from sitting too long in front of the fire.

Although she was of age, Miss Granger was still a teenager. A stupid, silly teenager with a misguided crush. He had no idea what could have brought it on, but he would have to do his best to shake her attention, to make her regret those fantasies. With a lifetime of experience keeping others at a distance, of making people hate him, he was confident that the young witch would soon go back to reviling him as much as the other members of her trio did.

As he got ready for bed, Severus refused to acknowledge the little voice in the back of his mind that wondered if Miss Granger knew about the strength of his legilimency, and had sent those images to him on purpose.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time a month had passed, all thoughts of her purposely using his legilimency against him were gone. The girl was insufferable, sure, but it was impossible that she was brave enough to be intentionally torturing him like this. Each Friday, when Severus had the distinct displeasure of instructing the sixth year Gryffindors, Miss Granger had become harder and harder to avoid. He knew that what she craved above all else was attention, so he refused to give it to her, refused to even look at her, afraid that any brief eye contact would once again assault his senses with her unrequited fantasies. Though he was unparalleled in occlumency, his attention was divided by a classroom of equally insufferable students, on whom he found himself taking out his anger and frustration, and he didn't want to take any risks.

He was not fully successful. He still received brief, vague waves of yearning from her direction, and a flash of an image here or there: sometimes lips, sometimes eyes, but most commonly a pair of slender, white hands. It was incredibly subtle; a less-skilled wizard would either never have noticed, or would have thought the thoughts came from his own mind. But once Severus was attuned to the feeling, it was almost impossible to ignore. _Almost_ impossible. After all, his years of spying for both the Dark Lord and The Order made him particularly adept at hiding his emotions. He ruminated on the fact that her daydreaming broke through his defenses, however faintly, which was a testament to how strong they must be.

However, the girl had other, less subtle tricks up her sleeve as well. He noted that the blouse of her uniform had become slightly tighter than necessary, the top button undone more often than not. She was always leaning forward, elbows resting on the table in a way that put her breasts on further display. He knew what she was doing, of course he knew, having seen it on more than one occasion when groups of young girls went giggling to class with the centaur Firenze, or that twit Lockheart. But never before had the flirting been directed at him, and he wasn't quite sure how to react other than to completely ignore her desperate grab for attention.

Still, on those nights after he'd had her in class, and Severus was alone in his chambers, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering. He wasn't a handsome man; he had long since come to terms with that fact. It wasn't as though he'd never received female attention. Far from it, in fact. As he rose through the ranks with the Death Eaters, plenty of women were drawn to his power, and he'd happily indulged them.

But he couldn't fathom why someone like Miss Granger, the ambitious, pretty witch, would become so infatuated with him. If it was power she was attracted to, then there were plenty of other wizards in The Order who could fulfill that fantasy. Not to mention the fact that she was best friends with The Boy Who Lived, arguably one of the most powerful and important people in the country. He couldn't imagine it was his intelligence that drew her to him either, considering her incessant need to be the smartest person in the room at all times. At the end of the day, the hows and whys didn't matter. What mattered was that he could never allow her to act on her desires for him.

And well, if he found himself imagining the curve of her breast, the slope of her hip, the tautness of her young body, while in the privacy of his own bed at night, there was no harm in indulging his male instincts, was there?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Severus took a deep breath as he looked around the classroom, bracing himself for the hour that was to come. Amortentia, the love potion. Most of these students were idiots on a good day, but putting a group of hormonal teenagers in a room swirling with the scent of their deepest desire made for some of the hardest days of the year. Even he, with his unflinching authority, had a tough time wrangling them. Slamming his book shut, a hush immediately fell over the room.

"Today, we will be brewing Amortentia. Who can tell me the effects of such a potion?" Hermione's hand instantly shot into the air. He firmly avoided looking in her direction. "Nobody? Pity. I should have known better than to hope for some modicum of intelligence out of you by now." With satisfaction, he saw Miss Granger's arms cross petulantly. He avoided thinking about the attractive way the position pushed her breasts together.

"Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence, and by some measures the most dangerous. While no form of magic can truly create love, this potion inspires extreme infatuation and obsession." The irony of his current situation was not lost on him in that moment. "The victim will lose all sense of agency and free will, and become devoted to the potion-brewer at the expense of their own health and well-being. It is important for you all to know what to look for in order to protect yourselves. Does anyone know the characteristics of Amortentia?"

Again, Hermione's hand went up. Again, he ignored her. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, her voice rang out through the room.

"The surface of Amortentia has a mother-of-pearl sheen, Professor. It also has smoke that rises in distinct spirals."

"10 points from Gryffindor for once again proving yourself a know-it-all, Miss Granger. You would do well to hold your tongue," he intoned, finally glancing in her direction. Her face had turned red, and he could see Potter and Weasley brimming with anger. Before either could jump to her aid, however, she spoke again.

"You shouldn't have asked the question if you didn't want an answer, _sir_. And I wasn't finished. Amortentia also has a different aroma to each person, smelling like what they find most attractive. Even if the person is unaware of that attraction." Her eyes were locked on his, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. She didn't seem to notice the shocked looks of the students around her. With mild alarm, he realized that avoidance had been the exact wrong tactic. Being ignored had made her more driven than ever with a need to show off, to get attention. _A need to please,_ he thought to himself with a sneer. Knowing that there was no way around it, that he had to finally address and resolve this issue once and for all, he fixed Hermione with a flat gaze.

"Make that 100 points from Gryffindor, and detention in my office. Tomorrow night. Now, let’s get to work. Turn to page 394."


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione was completely miserable. Collapsing onto the couch next to Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor common room, she admitted to herself what her mind had been skirting around for weeks: she had a crush. Although she had always been told she was mature for her age, she was still a teenage girl, and this certainly wouldn't be the first time she'd had a crush. Harry and Ron still wouldn't let her forget her infatuation with their handsome second year Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Gilderoy Lockheart. 

Knowing logically that she was being unrealistic did nothing to calm her heart, however, and she found her crush was impossible to quash. With all the responsibilities weighing heavily on her mind, stemming of course from the growing strength of Lord Voldemort, it felt good to have a secret escape. She hadn't been a regular student for years, quite possibly since she first befriended Harry after the troll incident, and daydreaming made her feel normal. It felt fun and silly to flirt with someone so unattainable, to occasionally turn her mind toward looking attractive for Potions class rather than dwelling on thoughts of saving the world.

She knew the Snape in her mind had become more and more unrealistic, even as it seemed to Hermione that the Snape in real life became more and more derisive. Not towards her. He had become unflinchingly cold towards her, completely ignoring her in class and avoiding her at all costs. But towards everyone else, especially her fellow Gryffindors, he was downright brutal. Poor Neville could be found in the hallway of the dungeons up until the very last second, building up the courage to step into class.

And still, as was common for many teenagers, Hermione had impressed her own fantasies and ideals onto her mental image of Snape. She imagined the Potions master to be firm and authoritative, but also gentle and attentive. She imagined how he would take charge in their relationship and allow her a sweet, if brief, respite from being the mature and responsible one. Most of all, she imagined him to be as stern an instructor in the bedroom as he was in the classroom, and the thought thrilled her. 

But today, she had gotten too brash. She had lost control of her temper, wanting him to acknowledge she existed in a way he hadn't in weeks. Hermione remembered the way her breath caught in her chest when he finally, finally pinned her down with that dark gaze. She had gotten in trouble, but so what? She was more than used to it by now. And when she had successfully completed her Amortentia potion and inhaled the heady, delicious scent of smoke, parchment, and herbs, all wrapped in an undercurrent of mustiness not unlike the dungeon she was currently in, she knew she was done for. Her heart raced as she thought of her upcoming detention, for a far different reason than it normally would.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts when she realized Harry and Ron were discussing the object of her desire, and tried not to seem too eager. "What did you say, Harry?"

"I asked if you noticed how furious Snape was last week when I finished my Draught of Living Death potion. Even _he_ had to admit how perfect it was!"

"When isn’t he furious?" Ron sulked. "He's been insufferable lately, and rubbing it in his face how good you are at Potions now isn't helping. Why couldn’t I have gotten that book?"

"I'm just hoping I can keep up the secret of the Half Blood Prince. If he suspects something he'll probably go digging in my head, and who knows if my occlumency is up to snuff?"

Hermione sniffed. "Oh Harry, you don't really think he's reading your mind, do you?"

"You weren't there in our lessons last year, you don't know how good he is! Did I tell you he can cast Legilimens without even using his wand? All he has to do is look at you and he knows what you're thinking." Ron had turned a distinctly unhealthy shade of green.

"Why didn't you tell us that earlier!? Oh gods, what if he heard me calling him a creepy old git in my head?"

"I did tell you! Well, I thought I did… I've had a lot of other things to occupy me lately, haven't I?"

The rush in Hermione's ears drowned out their bickering. Snape could see what you were thinking just by making eye contact? She thought back to that moment when their eyes met in class, that brief tightening of his features, the fact that he seemed to be avoiding her ever since. But no, he wouldn't have been casting Legilimens, would he? Harry had to be exaggerating, Snape couldn't just read everyone's mind all the time. He would have to be trying, and there was no way he would've been purposely trying to see into her mind in that split second. 

Wholly unconvinced by her own reasoning, she hurried to her room before her friends could see her stricken face, mind racing for a plan to assuage her mortification.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, Hermione's legs felt weak as she made her way to Snape's office. She had spent the entire night before, and in fact the entire day today, dwelling on whether or not he knew about her infatuation. She would just die of embarrassment if he had any inkling of what had been going through her mind during class every week. A small, bold part of her mind asked how bad it would really be if he knew of her fantasies. The worst he could do is chastise her, and the best he could do… well… she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge that possibility.

With a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked on his door. She heard him bid her to enter, and slowly stepped into his office, taking in the familiar surroundings that still made her feel like a naive first year. The walls were lined with rows of glass jars containing potion ingredients, with a round wooden table toward the back. He sat at the table in a heavy, leather-upholstered chair, cast in the faint light of a multitude of candles, facing her but not looking at her. She dimly noted a fireplace crackling in the corner of the room.

"Sit." he ordered, not looking up from the parchment in front of him. She gingerly balanced on one of the chairs at the opposite side of the table, waiting for the scratching of his quill to stop. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he looked up at her. Hermione sat up straight and immediately felt her skin flush under his gaze, painfully aware that they were alone, just as she had imagined so many times recently. Trying not to be crushed under his heavy silence, she mustered up the courage to speak.

"Sir, are you able to read my mind?"

If there was anything Severus had been expecting, it wasn't that.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, it's just that Harry told me about his private lessons with you last year. That you're an accomplished legilimens, which is why Dumbledore wanted you to teach him to protect his mind from Voldemort. That you can read people's minds without them even knowing, without needing to verbally cast the spell." Snape steepled his fingers on the desk, looking at her over his hooked nose, never breaking eye contact nor displaying any reaction to her words.

"That is all true, Miss Granger, although it is naive to refer to the practice as 'mind-reading'." Ignoring his snipe, she took a deep breath, steeling herself before continuing.

"Then is it also true, sir, that you know what I've been thinking about in class, and that's why you've been avoiding me?" Her face was flushed with embarrassment, but he read the determination in her eyes. He had brought her here specifically to discuss this situation, so there was no point in lying about the extent of his power. In fact, he almost felt relief that she had decided to bring it up herself. He could have put her out of her misery in that moment, acknowledged that he was aware of her feelings and taught her how to shield her thoughts. But after weeks of irritation, of trying and failing to avoid her attention, the dark part of him wanted to torture her a bit.

"That depends on to what you refer," he responded, with frustrating slowness. "I have to admit that your mind has been quite… loud lately. It's become hard to ignore, which is part of the reason I've ordered you here tonight. Why don't you tell me what you’ve been thinking about in class, and I'll tell you whether I've already divined those thoughts from your mind?" Hermione swallowed thickly, her mouth going dry. Did he really want her to lay it all bare for him, every secret fantasy her mind had conjured as she watched him work? Was this part of her punishment? Or did he have no idea, and was baiting her into saying something to incriminate herself? His tone was consistent, emotionless, demanding obedience, and as always, impossible to read. Deciding not to risk further punishment by lying, she started with small admissions.

"Well, sir, I've been quite distracted lately. You see, I've developed somewhat of a crush." She paused briefly, cheeks reddening again, but he merely nodded for her to continue. "I can't seem to get him out of my mind. It's become difficult to focus in class, but I promise I had no idea that my thoughts would interfere with your teaching. If I thought, even for a moment, that you would know what I was imagining… Well Professor, I promise I'll try harder to pay attention in class." All she could do was hold her breath and pray that he didn't know he was the object of her affections. But as he peered down his nose at her, she knew he wouldn’t let her off so easy.

"You're holding back, Miss Granger. Your grades are so precious to you, what could possibly be so enrapturing about this boy that you would risk poor performance in my class?" Her blood went hot at the derision in his low, sonorous voice, in more ways than one. Feeling that Gryffindor bravery come to the surface again, she pushed on with her admission.

"He's not a boy, sir. He's a brilliant, accomplished wizard. He's brave, braver than anyone knows, and risks more than anyone else in The Order." He quirked an eyebrow at that, and Hermione knew she was coming dangerously close to an admission she'd never be able to take back. Still, she soldiered on, feeling the weight of her secret adoration lift from her mind with each word she spoke aloud. Words she hadn't even realized were true until she said them.

"This man has worked diligently for years, protecting me and my friends for nothing in return. Worse than that, he receives only hatred and disdain. The very nature of his position ensures that his good deeds will never be acknowledged, he'll never receive thanks. And although I suspect he prefers it that way, I can't help but want to provide him comfort and… and pleasure." She paused, eyes on her hands as they twisted in her lap, and Severus's heart beat painfully in his chest as he absorbed everything she was saying. He was quickly starting to realize that, although it had started in lust, her recent attentions led to her seeing him more fully and truly than most. Suddenly, this was not a game. Suddenly, he wanted to put them both out of their misery.

"Just say it, Miss Granger. Say the name of the wizard who has been consuming your every thought." Head bowed, eyes lifted to lock with his, she was a perfect mirror of when this had all started. And with a trembling, breathy voice, she said the words he hadn’t known he so desperately wanted to hear.

"It’s you, Professor Snape."


	4. Chapter 4

Pulse thundering in her ears, Hermione couldn't believe what she had just admitted. Never in a million years had she imagined she'd be here, alone with Snape in his office, admitting her feelings. In fact, she never imagined she'd _have_ feelings for Snape. The strict, frightening, over-twice-her-age potions master? Harry would blow a gasket if he knew.

Fighting the urge to shrink under the piercing eyes of the wizard in front of her, she had the sudden realization that everything was balanced on the tip of a wand, ready to fall this way or that depending on what happened next. Weeks of daydreaming and flirting and sleepless nights were coming to a head. Either he would reciprocate her advances, or he wouldn't. Oh gods, what if he wouldn't? With a jolt of desperation, she reached across the table to grasp his hand. His strong, deft, beautiful hand. He startled slightly at the physical contact, the first sign of emotion she’d seen from him since their meeting began, and Hermione felt as though the heat from his skin was searing her from the inside out.

"Please sir, hear me out. I'm of age. An adult. And I have… urges, just like any other adult. I know you do too. I also know that you've seen into my mind. You want me to admit it? Fine. I've been fantasizing about having sex with you. It's like I've taken Amortentia, and there's almost nothing else I've been able to think about. Every time I watch you at the head of the class, so effortlessly in control, so passionate about your craft, I'm even more drawn to you. I want you to focus that control and passion on me. I need you to. Otherwise, I don’t know what I'll do."

His gaze was so dark, so intense, she began to wonder if he was using legilimency on her at that very moment. Not knowing what else to do, she fiercely began imagining what she wanted to happen next. In her mind's eye, she saw herself undoing the buttons on her blouse, never breaking eye contact. When she imagined exposing her breasts to him, bold and unafraid, he sucked in a breath with a hiss as his hand reflexively clenched in hers. Satisfied that her plan was working, she gave one last desperate plea.

"Professor Snape, please. I need you."

With those six words, she shattered him.

Severus's mind had been spinning, clinging to his last shreds of logic and reason. He had never expected their conversation to get this far. His plan was to force her to admit her immature crush and then remind her that he was a cruel, unfair man, sending her back to her friends thoroughly chastised and embarrassed. He should have known that the strong-willed little witch would not only rise to the challenge, but turned it on its head. Her candor, the breadth and depth of her feelings, the shrewd way she had seen through his unyielding exterior, had all surprised him. This war had matured her more than he thought possible. Each sentence she spoke since entering his office chipped away at his resolve, icy shards falling away bit by bit, and he realized that his heart was reveling in being desired. In being _seen_. He was familiar with being used, but never before had he felt so coveted. All at once, without giving himself the chance to think about it too much, he decided that he would give this girl anything she wanted.

He abruptly stood up and strode around the table to stand in front of her. Hermione stood up too, her face at chest level with him, and craned her neck to look up into his eyes. Gathering her in his arms, he bent down and caught her lips in his. Shuddering at finally, finally getting what she so desperately wanted, her hands reached up to grasp at his black curtains of hair as her tongue probed out to meet his. As their mouths moved together, hot and desperate, his hands deftly worked at the buttons of her blouse and the hooks of her bra, eager to see the reality of what he had just imagined. Pulling away, he drank in the sight of her bare breasts, marveling that this sexy young witch wanted him. He brushed his thumbs across her nipples, and her arousal seemed evident in that puckered skin, or maybe it was just the shock of cold dungeon air. Stepping back with a deep breath, regaining control of himself, he slowly blinked at her and straightened his robes.

She had said she wanted him to take control, and Severus was only too glad to oblige. As much as Miss Granger wanted the relief of temporarily giving up responsibility, arguably bearing more than should be on any teenager's shoulders, he had to admit that he was eager to feel powerful again. Serving two opposing masters, devoting his life to following orders, took its toll on the man. But now, she was allowing _him_ to be the one giving orders. Some not-so-hidden, dark part of him relished the fact that his supple, teenaged student not only wanted him to ravish her, but was practically demanding it. In that moment, nothing felt better than the knowledge that she would enthusiastically do whatever he demanded of her. 

"Over to the fire. Leave the rest of your uniform and lie down." Hermione's breaths became shallow, her skin flushed, as she stripped off the rest of her clothing, standing completely naked under his scrutinizing gaze. Licking her lips, she turned to approach the rug in front of the fireplace, deliberately swaying her hips with each step. Her brain seemed to finally catch up, realizing that this severe adult man who had reprimanded her more times than she could count was about to make her feel more like a woman than she ever had in her life. A shiver ran through her at the thought, and her skin erupted in goosebumps. Turning to face him, looking into his eyes bright with intelligence, she knew he had missed nothing. Professor Snape knew exactly the effect his attention had on her. She laid down as instructed, propped up on her elbows, and simply waited.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she watched him stalk towards her, looking like a predator sizing up its prey. He shrugged off his cloak, carefully hanging it on the back of a chair. Then his hands undid each sleeve cuff before reaching up to work at the buttons of his robes. Finally, she got her first glimpse of skin. First, his slender neck. Next, his collar bones, jutting out in sharp relief against his pale chest. Her eyes drank in each centimeter of his body as it was uncovered, exactly as she had imagined. He was slender, but lean. Muscles rippled under his skin with each movement, and she could tell he had a hidden strength. She licked her lips again as he shrugged out of his robes, abdominal muscles on full display. And lastly, he stepped out of his trousers, standing above her in nothing but a pair of boxers. Her eyes widened at the sight of the tented fabric, even while she inwardly glowed with pride. Finally, a reaction he couldn’t hide.

He laid down, pinning her hips under his, and she let out a sigh of contentment at feeling the weight of his body. Her professor lowered his head to kiss her greedily again, before working his mouth across her jaw and down her neck. Her hands once again clenched in his curtains of black hair, and she let out a small mewl as he enveloped one of her nipples in his mouth. As he sucked and laved at one breast, then the other, his hand brushed down her waist and over her hip before reaching between her legs. Her core was aching and pulsing, and a shudder racked her body as his fingers skated over her clit.

"You're soaking wet for me, Miss Granger." All she could do was moan in response as those fingers, those delicious fingers, rubbed their way lower and plunged into her. "I'm going to use your body for my own pleasure, and I expect you to follow my every instruction. If you do, you'll get such a good fucking that you'll forget about every boy you've ever been with, and you'll be thanking me when I'm done. Do you understand?" He knew instantly by the hard clenching around his fingers that she was getting off on his authority.

"I understand, Professor." Rewarding her obedience, he curled his digits and adjusted position so that his palm brushed against her clit as he worked his way in and out of her, and she was quickly reduced to a quivering mess beneath him. Some part of her whispered that she ought to feel shame in being so clearly desperate for the man, but that voice was very far away indeed. Her walls pulsed around his fingers, and just as she felt she was about to tip over the edge, he withdrew his hand and left her wanting. She let out a whine of frustration, but he quickly devoured her mouth with his, running his hand back up and down her body. Their tongues battled, hot and wet, and his teeth gently nipped at her bottom lip.

"Touch me," he ordered. Knowing exactly what he meant, Hermione reached down between them to rub at his boxers. Slipping her hand under the elastic, she wrapped her hand around that velvet skin and almost matched his groan of pleasure. He was hard, and warm, and absolutely irresistible. With desperate abandon she pushed his boxers down, aching to free his dick, and he mercifully helped her finish the job, kicking them off the rest of the way. She pumped him, hand twisting slightly with each down stroke, reveling at the way the man above her was coming undone.

Her other hand started to slide down to rub herself, but he caught her wrist and pinned it above her head with a snarl. "I didn't give you permission to pleasure yourself." His other hand buried itself in her mess of brown curls and yanked her head to the side as he bent to give her a sharp bite to the neck in reprimand. He then licked the bitten skin before sliding his tongue up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Her body burst in heat as he tugged and sucked on her earlobe, and Hermione wondered how she'd never known how good that could feel. After what felt like ages of tugging and rubbing and sucking, he finally met her amber eyes with his own, his blown out pupils making them blacker than ever. She shivered in anticipation, knowing what he was about to say.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Miss Granger." Letting go of the wrist above her head, Severus gripped the woman's thighs currently wrapped around his waist and pushed them up towards her chest, giving him ample access to everything he wanted to take. He grasped hold of himself and positioned his head at her dripping entrance. "I trust you've taken the appropriate contraceptive measures?"

"Y-yes sir," she said breathlessly, chest heaving. He gave her a small, thin-lipped smile.

"Good girl." And with that, he plunged into her. She cried out in pure ecstasy, and it was one of the most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard. Severus grasped either side of her face, locking his eyes onto hers as she adjusted to the fullness. His hips leisurely started to move, and she thought dreamily that there could be no better feeling than having a man inside you. She angled her own hips, drawing her legs even further into her chest, until she felt him hit her spot with each thrust. He gave her a feral smile as he moved in her with a frustrating slowness, knowing just how much he was torturing the young witch and relishing in it.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled in her ear. "Is this everything you imagined as you sat in my class, desperately trying to gain my attention? I saw you with your top unbuttoned, leaning forward to make me notice your cleavage." He pinched her nipple, and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. "But I wasn't the only one who noticed, did you know that? Every boy's eyes were on your chest, and some of the girls too. Did you crave their attention as well? Did you relish having their eyes follow you across the room?"

"No sir," she gasped, barely able to speak through her pleasure. An ache was building, and his silky, low voice in her ear wasn't helping matters. She desperately tried to buck her hips up to meet his, to urge him on faster, but Snape simply watched her with the same unreadable expression as always. "I didn't notice anyone else. I only wanted you. Oh gods, I wanted you so badly sir." It was exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I know you did. Do you realize how hard it is to teach Potions while fending off your sexual fantasies? Your imagination practically screaming, day after day, trying to force images of our entwined bodies onto me? You have a filthy mind, Miss Granger. You're a greedy, self-important little witch, and I'm going to make you pay for it."

With those words he started pounding into her with all his might, hard and fast. She gasped and keened as he hit her cervix, but the pleasure far outweighed the pain. The idea that he was using her for his own release, giving no thought to what she wanted and yet meeting her every need anyway, was intensely erotic. Her body shifted against the floor with every forceful thrust, and she wrapped herself tightly around him, holding on for dear life as he drove into her with more strength than she'd ever experienced. Hermione's mouth latched onto his collar, lapping at his salty skin as she listened to the sound of his body slapping against hers. The friction of him moving back and forth inside of her, along with his pubic bone grinding against her clit, was soon more than she could handle. And he was so observant, so in tune with her body, that just as she felt she had reached her limit, his voice was in her ear again.

"I know you love feeling me ride you. This is the fucking you've been craving, isn't it? Tell me." His deep, sonorous tones made her heart leap painfully. She was completely out of her mind with lust, and breathlessly gave him an unfiltered confession as he pounded into her.

"Yes professor, having you inside me is better than I could've imagined. Everything about you is unbearably sexy. Your body, your voice, your authority... all of it drives me insane. Your cock makes me feel so good, I wish we never had to stop." As these admissions fell from the gasping witch's lips, her words ghosting across his skin with her face pressed to his chest, Severus knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. 

"I want you to come for me."

His command drove her over the edge. Searing heat and the most delicious ache built in her core and exploded all at once. Her nails raked down his back as her completion ripped through her with a scream. The waves of pleasure felt endless as she clutched his body to hers, unable to do anything but whisper _thankyouthankyouthankyou_ as though reciting a prayer. She was still clenching her walls tightly around him as his own release came with a sharp, deep groan. She felt him pulse inside her, stream after stream of cum shooting deep into her womb, as his body collapsed heavier onto hers. All at once her limbs turned to jelly, and tears streamed from her eyes in her state of post-sex euphoria. Professor Snape sat up and lifted her into his lap, holding her sweat-glazed body tightly to his chest as she shuddered. The soothing feeling of his hand stroking her hair soon brought her back down to earth, her breathing coming more evenly, until finally she yawned, melting deeper into him.

"How do you feel, Miss Granger?"

"I feel excellent, thank you Professor. Do you think I could stay here with you a little longer, though?" Despite himself, Severus felt his chest warming.

"As long as you're back in your own bed before your classmates wake up, I see no reason why not."

"Thank you, sir." They stood slowly, and - not bothering to get dressed - she curled up in one of his armchairs near the fire, dozing with a comforting warmth and watching him through half-lidded eyes as those slender fingers flipped through a book. She smiled to herself as she thought about what fantasies to throw at him during their next Potions class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the plot was rushed, but in all honesty, the whole reason I wrote this story was to get this particular scene out of my system. Thanks for reading!


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